After The Angels 3
by Kbbb22
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester have just lost their friend. But Castiel doesn't see it that way. Will Abbadon win this fight?
1. Chapter 1

Dean awoke with a jolt. It was just then dawn but he felt as if he'd been asleep for days. He knew now that it was time; the darkening sky, the eerie silence, the longer nights. He rolled out of bed and brushed his hand through the shortly cropped black hair. Sam was asleep in the room on the other side of the house, and Dean could hear him snoring.

"Today's the day."

Castiel was dead. This thought was the only one rushing through Dean's mind as he turned the shower on. Stripping down to nothing, he allowed the water to surround him in steam. It was the day Castiel was to be buried. No real service was to be performed, just a private, lonely grave behind the hideout. No flowers were to be given, only a tombstone reading "Our Human Angel" placed above a mound of soil. Dean could barely believe it; the events of the past month flashed before his eyes over and over. Sam and him finding Castiel, the overwhelming sadness blanketing them, putting Kevin's translations on hold, staring at an empty phone book... No one to call to ask advice. Darker days had never come.

Dean dried off, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. Normally he had great pride for his personal appearance, but today he looked sullen, starved, and most of all tired. It was going to be a long day. After Dean had dressed, the silence overcame him. Sam was still asleep and the sun was just barely over the skyline. The morning ritual around the hideout had always been the same: coffee, shower, breakfast, research, pray to Castiel, hope that he would return soon. But as he stared at the empty drawing room, the want to pray to Castiel had dissolved. Who would be listening? Other angels... bent on finding and killing the Winchesters? Not today.

Dean retreated to the file room. He began to rummage through the endless papers, looking, hoping he would find something to take his mind away from the memory of Castiel... lying dead in the grass, his coat ripped hundreds of times, the familiar face of their angel burnt beyond recognition. The files brought Dean no solace. No inkling of hope for the future, no promise that loved ones would not die. Staring down at a floor plan of the hideout, a desperate thought crossed Dean's mind: He had no more loved ones, except for Sam. All of his family (makeshift or otherwise) was dead. None remained but his brother. With this, Dean straightened his shirt, pushed the boxes of files back on their shelves and went to wake Sam. He needed to move, feel his limbs alive... for at this moment Dean Winchester may has well have been dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam Winchester sipped his coffee in silence. He was leaned over their workspace, pouring over a thick, leatherbound guide to spells. Dean, his brother, was just staring at the floor... seemingly entranced by the hard wood. They were silent, no playful gestures, laughs, jokes. Just silence.

The grave for Castiel was dug. Its gaping maw brought a palpable queasiness to the day. A full minute passed in complete silence. Sam, still chewing on the spells; Dean, watching the sun paint the walls golden. Finally, he exhaled and stood.

"Alright. It's been long enough.. Let's get this damn thing over with."

Sam looked up, nodding quietly. They glanced one last time at the kitchen and began to make their way out into the warm midday sun.

The large iron key jingled as it entered the locked shed. Dean gave the door a shove, opening onto a large room plastered with angel defense symbols, demon repeling spells, and wardings of every kind. In the middle, laid across a table, was the angel. His face was sullen and white... All remnets of the smiles and frowns they shared was wiped away. Castiel was cold. Dean shuttered, memories flooding through him.

Sam slapped his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Come on, lets get him... out of here." Sam lifted Castiel's feet, Dean took the angel's shoulders. They lifted their fallen brother up off of the table and carried him out into the yard. The grave, empty and dark, sat gaping.

The brothers laid Castiel on a cloth and wrapped it around his body. The outline of the angel was still.

Sam and Dean lowered his body into the grave. Thunder rumbled overhead and the brothers glanced once more into the hole.

"Bye Cass. We'll miss you." Was all Sam could muster. He ran his hand through his hair and picked up the shovel, ready to bury Castiel.


	3. Chapter 3

Deep below the world of humans, Abbadon leaned back in her throne. She was pleased (like she normally was); Crowley was dead, Castiel as well, Sam and Dean Winchester were off the map at the moment. Everything seemed to be working in her favor. But Abbadon was growing tired of waiting. She was Queen of Hell... and yet seemingly unfulfilled.

"I suppose having everything you could want really does make you want more," She pondered, watching hundreds of slave souls suffer. This was the point of her actions. This is what she wanted everyday since she became a Knight of Hell. She had spent her whole life (more than four thousand years) working towards claiming Crowley's throne. Abbadon thought of the thousands of people she had to kill to get here.. hundreds of children, turning men's faces inside out, burning women alive. And yet, something was missing.

"That's it!" She proclaimed, "Sam and Dead would make this cake worth eating!" A sly smile leaked across her face. She had a plan, now. A plan that even she was surprised with. Everything was beginning to come together...

Dean shoveled dirt over the makeshift coffin. Now that he looked at it, the deep hole seemed to go on for miles... and at the bottom lay the casket of their beloved angel. Tears prickled his eyes, the hard shell he put up was slowly crumbling. Castiel's face swam behind his eyes, pleading to try, not to give up. Dean shook this sick feeling off and patted down the last mound of dirt over Castiel's body. He turned to meet eyes with Sam; Sam would not meet his gaze.

"We could have saved him Dean." He mumbled, boyishly staring into the grass. It was a yellow, dead color... much like he felt at that moment. "We should have found him sooner... stopped him from going to hell! Abbadon should have died a long time ago, Dean." Sam put his face in his hands, feeling the wet tears rolling down his palms. "Damnit!" He struck the shovel with his foot, sending it flying across the yard. His brother looked on as Sam stormed away, slamming the door behind him. Dark clouds began to roll in, sprinkling rain down on the grave. Dean was cold but he crouched by Castiel's tombstone, wondering what act of life brought him to this moment.

Abbadon snickered, eyes pouring over a conjuring guide.

"Here we go..." She mumbled, placing an iron goblet on the table in front of her. The throne room was dark, haunting shadows danced on the walls around her. "A pinch of goat hoove, sprinkle of dead sea salt..." She mumbled, grinding ingredients and sifting them into a bubbling cauldren. Finally, she placed a tiny leaf in the center of the purple broil. The room exploded with a bright light, Abbadon laughed. Her years of work had paid off...

"Those boys are going to have trouble with this one.. What will they do, I wonder, when their precious Castiel fights against them?" Slyly smiling Abbadon chanted the final spell. "Surgere angelum concidit. Ego prμcipio tibi, Castiel. Consurget."

Miles above Abbadon's throne room... A thump from the Earth knocked Dean from his feet. The ground began to shake, waves of soil erupted forth... His nightmare rose from the ground, bringing real fear to his eyes as he called out for his brother.


End file.
